CHAPTER 60: CHAPTER 60: GO AHEAD, JUMP (THIRD UPDATE, VOTE NOW)

Water splashed everywhere.

Then, the flames extinguished, and the person became motionless, with only some fragments of a dress floating on the water’s surface.

The garden was filled with the smell of burning and steam.

Stella Grant finished the last piece of meat on her plate.

The drama was over.

She clapped her hands with satisfaction and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

Aiden Fordham watched her looking so content, his gaze complex.

This small woman, she always avenges her grievances and does it so decisively and unexpectedly.

Interesting!

Butler Fletcher was already directing two male servants, frantically pulling Frances Fordham out of the fountain.

Frances was drenched, her dress burned away, leaving only her underwear. Her hair and eyebrows were singed, and there were burn marks all over her legs. She was in a pathetic state, shivering on the ground, her eyes dazed, clearly terrified.

Stella lowered her head, looking at Frances who resembled a drowned rat.

Her voice was gentle, with a hint of apology.

"Sorry, sister. I was just playing a little joke on you."

"Are you okay?"

Frances suddenly raised her head, her scattered gaze instantly filled with immense anger and fear!

She glared fiercely at Stella, as if she wanted to tear her apart!

"Stella Grant! You did it on purpose!"

She shouted with all her might, her voice sharp and piercing!

"You did it on purpose! You wanted to burn me to death!"

She turned to Aiden Fordham, crying and accusing: "Brother! She tried to murder me! She wants to kill me!"

Murder!

Those two words struck a certain point precisely in Aiden Fordham.

His originally complex and unreadable gaze turned cold instantly.

Compared to Stella Grant falling from a horse, or drowning in a river, a near-death experience!

The "joke" that left Frances with a few superficial injuries, and she dared to call it murder?

Aiden Fordham’s voice had no warmth.

"Butler."

"Yes, sir." The butler immediately bowed.

"Send her back to the old house," Aiden Fordham’s tone was indisputable, "Confine her for six months."

"Without my permission, she’s never allowed to step foot in the estate again."

Frances couldn’t believe it, her eyes widened, forgetting to cry, "Brother! You can’t do this to me! She wants to harm me! Brother!"

The butler already received his orders: "Yes, sir."

He gestured to the two male servants to step forward and grab the still struggling and crying Frances.

"Let go of me! Let go! Brother! I’m your sister! Brother—!"

Frances’ cries grew more distant, as the butler efficiently dragged her away.

Satisfied!

That night, Stella Grant slept especially soundly.

The next morning, Stella cautiously moved her ankle, it wasn’t hurting as much.

She slowly got out of bed and took a couple of steps.

Hmm, recovering well enough.

After breakfast, feeling idle, Stella decided to go out for some fresh air.

She opened the door, planning to stroll around the area. The sun was just right, and the air was fresh.

She hadn’t walked far when she heard a faint sound of music drifting over.

Hmm? What sound is that?

The melody was quite unique, a bit ethereal, yet somewhat... indescribable.

Curious, she followed the sound, it was coming from another direction of the estate.

"Ah!"

She screamed in fright, her heart nearly leaping out of her throat.

She looked up to see Aiden Fordham’s expressionless face. "Aiden Fordham! What are you doing! Put me down!"

Stella struggled with all her limbs, her fists pounding on his shoulder.

This guy was made of stone? Hitting him felt quite hard.

Aiden ignored her, holding her as he strode forward, with steady steps.

"Don’t move," his tone was flat, revealing no emotion.

"I can walk by myself!" Stella fumed. Did this person have some... carrying fetish?

Aiden didn’t stop, directly placing her in the seat of a nearby [electric buggy].

Not very gently, Stella almost got shoved in by him.

"Are you done yet?" She adjusted her clothing, glaring at him.

Aiden got in as well, sitting right next to her. The space was small, their arms almost touching, Stella silently shifted to the side.

The vehicle slowly started moving!

"Where are you taking me?" Stella turned to ask him.

Aiden didn’t speak, looking ahead, his profile hard and cold.

"Aiden Fordham, if you don’t speak, I’ll jump out of the car!" she threatened.

Even though the car wasn’t going fast, if she jumped, she’d probably take a tumble.

Aiden finally reacted.

He turned his head to glance at her. His gaze had no warmth, no ripples, just looking at her calmly.

As if saying: If you dare, jump.

Stella: "..."

Fine, you win.

She turned her head back, fuming as she looked ahead.

Soon, the car stopped in front of a vegetable garden.

Not far away came the intermittent sound of a guitar, accompanied by an old and hoarse man’s singing.

Thin smoke curled up from the chimney of a small house, drifting slowly away.

An old woman was carrying two bowls of vegetables, walking slowly, placing them on a small square table in the middle of the yard.

The green vegetable field was nicely organized, all kinds of vegetables looking vibrant.

Nearby, several small sheds were set up, inside came the sounds of rabbits nibbling, pigeons cooing, kittens meowing, mixed together, yet not annoying.

Stella stood there, watching it all.

Very familiar, too familiar.

The gates of memory were opened wide by this scene.

She too had spent two years like this, guarding a piece of farmland, accompanying two elderly people.

Working at sunrise, resting at sunset.

Only, those two old folks were no longer around.

The singing continued, carrying the vicissitudes of time, occasionally interspersed with restrained coughs.

Stella felt a pang at the tip of her nose, her eyes quickly reddening.

The old man playing and singing saw them, stopped plucking the strings, and ceased his humming.

He put down the old guitar, carefully stood up, and the old woman also approached.

"Mr. Fordham, Mrs. Fordham, hello!" Fletcher’s voice was noticeably hoarse.

The old woman had a simple, sincere smile on her face, her eyes gentle, "Breakfast is just ready, if you don’t mind, join us for a bite?"

Stella gently shook her head, her voice somewhat low, "Thank you, but no."

She paused, her gaze turning to the lively small animals.

"May I... feed the little rabbits?"

The old woman immediately laughed, "Of course, they love carrots the most."

She turned and quickly walked back to the house, soon bringing out a small basket filled with cut carrot sticks.

"Here, take it."

Stella picked up a carrot stick, reaching out to the boldest white rabbit.

The rabbit came over, its small split-mouth quickly nibbling away.

She picked up another stick, feeding it to another gray rabbit, moving slowly and seriously.

The surroundings were very quiet, only the sound of rabbits chewing and the faint noises of other small animals coming from the sheds nearby.

As she fed the rabbits, without lifting her head, she suddenly asked.

"Is Butler Fletcher..."

Her voice was very soft, carrying uncertainty, but also a certain understanding.

Yet she did see it!

Saw the old man’s imperceptible slowness in getting up, saw his sallow complexion, heard the weakness hidden in his singing along with those few coughs, it wasn’t just the common signs of aging.

Aiden Fordham did not hide it, his voice calm.

"Butler Fletcher is the butler’s father."

"Liver cancer, in the final stage."